


Dear Wormwood

by AmazingGraceless



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Gen, Religious Content, Religious Discussion, spiritual healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 06:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29870436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmazingGraceless/pseuds/AmazingGraceless
Summary: Two Saints of Ravka find their way to Aslan’s Country, the home to all the Saints.
Relationships: The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova & Alina Starkov
Kudos: 5





	Dear Wormwood

At first, there was the darkness. Exactly the ending one would expect for one called the Darkling, yes? And yet, that was only the beginning.

This story begins with the one who would be called the Starless Saint waking from a tranquil black sleep to a beautiful forest unlike any he had seen before. It was the kind of forest that would be found much farther south than Ravka, than Shu. Perhaps it could be found to the west of Kerch.

But that did not matter to Aleksander.

What mattered was the lion standing before him.

Aleksander had heard of lions, although they had never made it to Ravka. He had only seen them in books from far-off kingdoms. Despite his many centuries of wandering the earth, he had never taken the time to travel beyond the continent and the immediate world he knew. What a shame it had been, what a foolish action, when all his planning and plotting to make Ravka better for Grisha had operated at such a slow crawl, he might as well have not tried at all.

This lion was different, however, than the ones he had seen in books and the like. There was an energy of serenity and power that radiated off of this lion. He carried himself with a majesty beyond that of any wild animal, save something holy like the stag, the serpent, or most of all the firebird.

“I am like your firebird, Son of Adam.”

Aleksander’s quartz eyes widened—he had never in all of his years come across an animal blessed with the power of speech. He had heard of birds at the world’s end that could imitate the speech of others, but never could construct sentences of his own.

“I am disappointed, however, at how you have treated my vassals in your country,” the lion continued. “The stag and the serpent did not mean any harm to you, and you still hunted them like common animals.”

“I—“ Aleksander was about to lie, when he realized that it would be better not to lie to this lion. There was something about him that reminded him of his mother in her tenderer moments, when he was small. “I needed them. The Sun Summoner needed them, to come into her true power and to control the Fold.”

The lion’s tail twitched, like that of an unhappy cat.

“Your intentions may have been good, Son of Adam.” He paused. “You hurt many innocents, you hurt Alina. But that is their story. As for you, you are beginning to understand and feel remorse for what you have done.”

Aleksander frowned. “Who are you?”

“I am known by many names.” The lion’s tail flicked again, but there was a gentle playfulness to his golden eyes. “In your world, you know me as the god of your saints. In this world, I am known as Aslan, and you are in my country now.”

Aleksander for the first time in a long time, was afraid. As afraid as he was as a child, running from village to village, trusting and caring for no one. As afraid as he was when he first created the Fold, through an accident in the first war he’d fought for the Grisha. His grandfather had been a saint, despite the faith initially shunning and persecuting Grisha. His relationship to it, as a result, and the god of the faith, had been complicated.

To see the god who had brought on such hatred for his people, the god who he had questioned over and over in his many years, the firebird taken his true form here. . .

He felt like a small child once again, filled with wonder and terror alike.

“No, Son of Adam, I do not hate your people.” There was empathy in Aslan’s voice, unlike any that Aleksander had ever known. “I cannot control what men and women do, as much as I may try to guide them in the right direction. No, they must take the right path themselves, or it does not mean anything.”

“I—I wanted good, for the Grisha, for Ravka.” He was crying, he realized numbly. “I was raised to love no one, to trust no one. My only friends tried to murder me! I prayed, I prayed to the god they said could help us, could save us! But no one ever came!”

In Aslan’s eyes, there was a gentle understanding. “You have suffered. As many do, as is the misfortune of having a world with free will and choices. I have seen it, Son of Adam, and I did offer my protection when I could, and gave you the gifts of speech, of leadership to pave the way for your kind. You have done great good and great evil alike, however, with those gifts.”

Aleksander bowed his head in shame. He deserved whatever judgement came from the lion god.

“You need not be afraid, Son of Adam. Rise.”

Aleksander looked up at the lion, at first confused. Still he did as he said, and for the second time, took in the forest around him. It was beautiful, the scent richer than any forest he’d been in before, each sound crisp and clear, but not too loud, in a beautiful sympathy of wind and birdsong. The colors of the leaves and flowers were brighter, more real than any color he had seen in his life.

“This is my country,” Aslan repeated. “You may stay here for as long as you like, as do all who pass through all worlds. You will find much to set your heart at peace, and learn to use your gifts for more good than you did in life.”

“I don’t understand,” Aleksander admitted. “I don’t deserve a second chance.”

“Many do not,” Aslan admitted, a wry humor about him now. “And yet, all deserve a second chance, Son of Adam, if they are willing to take it.”

Aleksander nodded, a tranquility and hope overtaking him for the first time. He felt more alike than he ever had in Ravka, truly happy to take in the air, to experience the beauty of the world.

He wouldn’t waste a second of it.

* * *

The orphanage was too big, even now to Alina. There were so many corridors and rooms that were still foreign to her after an entire childhood of roaming about the place, and returning to it now as an adult. Sometimes she would sit in the new room by one of the windows (for there were always windows looking out) and play with the sunlight in her hands, remembering what was once hers.

It was in one of these rooms, when she was looking for some toy or something that had disappeared from the children’s quarters when she came across the wardrobe. Curious, she’d opened it—and had been surprised to see snow inside of it. No, snow and pines, an entryway to an entire forest!

Alina did not hesitate to step through the wardrobe, past the pines, to a single lamppost in a solitary wood unlike any that she had ever seen in Ravka. The snow was only pleasantly cool to her touch when she leaned to pick it up, not blisteringly cold like in Ravka.

When she looked back up, she saw a golden creature she had never seen before in her life. With a tawny mane, golden eyes, and a catlike body, it was a regal creature, one that reminded her specifically of the stag. This was a powerful, holy creature, one to be revered.

“Daughter of Eve, you have arrived right on time.”

Alina blinked—but otherwise did not show her surprise. It wasn’t such a stretch, after all, to think that a clearly magical animal like this lion could speak. In fact, it seemed only natural, in reflection.

There was a familiarity to this lion, Alina decided as she regarded it. There was an energy about him that was the warmer, kinder version that radiated off of the Book of Saints, off of the hallowed grounds of churches and the like. She felt as if she might have met him before, although she would certainly remember if she had.

“We have not met directly, Daughter of Eve, but you have spoken to me many times before, as the god of your saints.”

Hurriedly, Alina dropped to her knees to kneel. She had been called saint by many, in Ravka. Would this lion god, her god, approve of such a thing? It seemed ridiculous now, in front of such an undeniably divine creature.

“Rise, Daughter of Eve, you have served me well in the last few years.”

She did so, uncertain of what was to happen next. She glanced over her shoulder, at the world she had left behind via the wardrobe.

“Am I dead? I do not think I’m meant to come to your country so soon.”

The lion laughed—it was a kindly sort of laugh.

“No, no, Daughter of Eve. I knew you would someday find the doorway one of my servants left for the lost children of your world, the children who needed most to find their way here.” He regarded her with a sorrow. “You have needed to come here a long time ago. You might have found the belonging and companionship you needed, then.”

Alina thought of her childhood, tagging after Mal and suppressing the power that was now lost to her forever.

Somehow, she’d ended up back at the beginning, at exactly where she had never wanted to go back to.

“But I’m happy now,” Alina argued. “I’m home, where I belong,with Mal, and I no longer have my powers, so I can be with him—“

“Who said that you no longer have your power, Daughter of Eve?”

“I cannot call it to me,” Alina explained. “I thought perhaps it was lost with Aleksander, or maybe you rejected it—“

“No, my daughter.” The lion seemed quite sad now. “You locked that power away, in your grief.”

“My grief?” Alina let out a little hysterical giggle. “I don’t think you understand, I never mourned him, I don’t miss him—“

“Do not lie, Daughter of Eve,” Aslan chided. “Nothing good is borne of it. Let us speak frankly—your feelings are not meant to be so easily cast aside.”

Alina nodded, embarrassed that she had tried to lie to her god. But for the first time, in the longest time that she could recall, she let her true feelings wash over her. She did not want Mal dead, and she had regretted the choice she had made in her greed, in her bloodlust, her vengeance for the Darkling.

She knew the Darkling needed to be stopped. He had done so many things to hurt her and others. And yet, she missed him and feared that he was right. There was no one else that would be a match for each other.

She wished she could have seen what he could have become, in a better world.

“Ah, but that is his story, Daughter of Eve.” Aslan looked over the hill. “But luckily, he is here to tell it.”

“I don’t understand,” Alina admitted. “Why am I here?”

“To find what peace you need,” Aslan said. “To heal, Alina. In my country, time heals all wounds.”

Indeed, on the hill of the forest, covered in pristine white snow, was none other than Aleksander, looking happier and younger than Alina had ever known him.

At first, she felt fear, as he approached. But then came the joy, the catharsis of a world where things were better.

“You may stay as long as you like, for you have served me well, my daughter.”

“Thank you, Aslan.” Alina smiled and then bounded up the hill to find the answers she could not seek in Ravka.


End file.
